


my heart is nuclear (love is all that i fear)

by clockworkeyes



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Character Study, Extinction, Fluff, Light Angst, M/M, Pining, Self Confidence Issues, The Extinction, extinction!martin, literally would it be jonmartin without it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-18
Updated: 2020-07-18
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:49:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25364890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clockworkeyes/pseuds/clockworkeyes
Summary: Martin would see the world end before his eyes and struggle against the inevitable. He watched the news and saw nuclear power flourish and oil spill and carbon dioxide flood the air and species vanish and the world grow hotter and hotter and felt a certainty burrow deep into his bones that this would be his demise. And as much as it filled him with dread so too did he relish in it.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Comments: 2
Kudos: 48





	my heart is nuclear (love is all that i fear)

**Author's Note:**

> ok I'm not an extinction martin truther but i was listening to this song and it all went downhill from there
> 
> (title from Radioactive by MARINA)

For as long as Martin Blackwood could remember, he’d known he would die.

Death was a fact of life for him, as much as school or his mother’s faded blouses or that one mole on his left arm. He saw the documentaries left playing as she fell asleep on the sofa, talking of endangered species and protective action, and knew that one day that would be him- him fighting to survive, trying to stay alive to no avail, always persisting on to another day with all he had. He knew he would die, and just the same he knew he would resist it until all was lost.

When Martin Blackwood was 9, he heard the word ‘apocalypse’ for the first time.

The word resonated with him in a way his young mind didn’t yet understand, and he knew that this was the death he would face. He would see the world end before his eyes and struggle against the inevitable. He watched the news and saw nuclear power flourish and oil spill and carbon dioxide flood the air and species vanish and the world grow hotter and hotter and felt a certainty burrow deep into his bones that this would be his demise. And as much as it filled him with dread so too did he relish in it.

He read about stars, and the void of space, and the inevitable heat death of the universe. He wrote about the natural and the artificial, about humanity as an invader, a bringer of death and destruction. He even thought about studying physics, while school was still an option for him. But there were no positions for a secondary school dropout, even with the embellishments to his CV, and faking it until you made it was significantly more difficult in a field where facts are everything. So, Martin fell back on his imagination and his mind, added a degree in parapsychology, took a gamble and watched astounded as it somehow worked.

Work at the Institute was… fine. It wasn’t what Martin wanted to be doing, and he could feel the stares of his colleagues when he slipped, a constant paranoia that told him any day could be his last. But the pay was good enough for his mum, and occasionally he’d find a statement that fell enough into his interests to make researching feel less of a chore. 

Things became more difficult when Jon happened. Martin had held down a job at the Institute for 2 years, and he was fine. He didn’t have time for dating, or relationships, or friends outside of occasional lunches with Sofia and Will from the desks next to his. He was alone, constantly, in his life and his poems and his dreams, and he was ok with it. But then Jonathan walked briskly into Research one day, with his sharply styled hair and his shiny shoes and everything about him so carefully cultivated, and Martin was weak. 

It wasn’t just that Jon was handsome. He was, of course he was, exactly Martin’s type with that sharp voice and those curious eyes, put together so neatly and carefully that Martin couldn’t help but want to rumple him a little just to see what would happen. If it were just that Jon was handsome Martin could call it a crush and go on with his life. It was that Jon was a survivor. Everything about the man screamed persistence, told of a fighting spirit and a determination to carry on. Martin looked at him and recognised in another person that drive he saw in himself to survive. For the first time, when Martin dreamt of wastelands and pain and the end of all things, he did not walk alone. 

But Jon felt nothing for him, and so for years Martin watched and wondered and waited for anything to change. He got transferred down into the archives and attacked by a woman who was worms and by something that was not his co-worker anymore, and saw the remains of his old life, his normal life, fall apart, until the only constant that remained was once again his will to survive.

And then Jon fell into a coma, and the last remnants of Martin fell away.

He no longer wanted to survive, no longer had that drive. What was the point of clinging to life? He had nothing to hold on for, no prospects or family or friends, no reason to persist. But Peter spoke so confidently of a terrifying threat, told Martin that he had a reason after all, that it would fall to him to save them all, that he was special, and Martin followed him into the fog and the quiet, let Peter ramble about Big Pictures and a higher cause and told himself that he didn’t need to fight for himself anymore, but for everyone else. He saw the wisps of mist drift in the air around him every so often, felt the aching chill of solitude in his bones, and knew that this would all be worth it for Jon.

Until Peter lead him down into that place and told him his time had come- he needed to learn more about the Extinction and needed Martin’s life to do it. Needed Martin to kill. And when Martin refused and felt that fog grow around his heels he resolved to fight it until the end, as he’d always known he would.

Except it wasn’t fog, Martin realised. It was smoke.

Smoke growing hot and thick and choking around his heels, rising in the room as he clung on to life, as he struggled and fought for his life and decided that he was never going to be lonely like that. He felt the smoke pour into his throat and expected pain but felt it as natural as breathing as the room grew hotter and he felt the blood in his veins grow thick and heavy, glancing at his wrist to see it running black.

He had become a survivor through and through, a creature of plastic and metal and oil encased in skin and bone- he would outlive them all and remain until the world fell away to nothing, because it was what he did.

He left that room with Peter and Elias choking behind him- he didn’t think they’d die, but he had other priorities at that moment. He had to find Jon, had to let him know he was safe, that he wasn’t giving up on him.

The two of them travelled up to the safehouse, and not once did they talk about the oil that drooled from Martin’s finger when he nicked it on a nail, or the smoke that wafted around him, or the heat that rolled off of him, burning and intense and as powerful as a dying sun. Martin was something new now- something frightening and enthralling and artificial but still so real- but he was also the same man who made tea and watched nature documentaries and loved Jon more than anything. Jon Knew all he needed to, and knew that they were going to be fine. The two of them would battle their way through the apocalypse and back together and lose their humanity for a love far more precious as they gazed at a sky that gazed back. 

For as long as Martin Blackwood could remember, he’d known he would die, but first there was work to be done.

**Author's Note:**

> also I'm kind of on a roll so if you want to request a fic..... (eyes emoji)


End file.
